Wonderwall
by Skyway
Summary: Lost in a post-War world, Draco's reconstruction deserves a party, and Ginny's the only person fit to plan it. They feed off of each other's bitterness.
1. Throw It Back

DISCLAIMER: All but the plot belong to J.K. Rowling and company, except for the song Wonderwall by Oasis.

_Today is gonna be the day_  
  
_That they're gonna throw it back to you  
  
By now you should've somehow  
  
Realized what you gotta do  
  
I don't believe that anybody  
  
Feels the way I do about you now_

The world was dark. That was undeniable. Unfortunately, the question of whether it was broken was yet to be answered. There were still those who sat on seats of inscrutable power, but in these seats were a new breed of the upper crust. The few who had survived the Great War with their fortunes were treated like spitting pet kittens—affectionately cared for, and a great source of amusement, but they were quick to be caged for letting out their claws. As for the rest that had survived the Great War without their fortunes, they had earned some sort of credibility in the wizarding community for having abandon these fortunes for what was good and what was right.

With the economy nearly shot, many people had independently made it to the top of the monetary ladder with pure dumb luck. As for the rest, things finally seemed balanced. Large, poor families could afford what they needed, as could small, wealthier families.

The problem was that money didn't seem to mean a thing anymore. This second coming begged for some answers, and people would pay anything for a feeling. Feelings. The passion of the late teens to mid-twenties set was nearly lost, as the majority of it had gone into the Great War. At a time when they should have been experimenting and making love and mistakes, their efforts were going into protecting their ideals—and in that aspect, in the very least, they were young. And, what was worse, they were setting the examples for the generations to follow. This was very, very bad for business. And in this respect, the wizarding world was finally in step with that of the Muggle.

So now money moguls were desperately trying to scrap up some pseudo- excitement to try to stimulate fervor within the youth of the wizarding world. Many would believe that there was a nouveau-'Bohemian'-revolution going on, but no, it was merely profit attempts.

And at the helm of this pseudo-nouveau-Bohemian-revolution was one girl. One girl who wasn't particularly stunning, but her beauty was intimidating because it was cool. She wasn't wealthy on her own accord, and she didn't particularly seem to do anything but go to parties and events and shop and sit around, smoking at the finest restaurants, dress in the trendiest clothes, hang out with the most beautiful and the most talented people. The only phrase that could describe Ginny Weasley was "good-time girl".

For a good-time girl, Ginny Weasley never looked very happy. Oh, sure, she would laugh in the pictures—big white teeth, glossy, red lips, eyes lighting up—but hearing her laugh, had you any instincts, it always sounded as though it were mocking someone. She seemed happiest when she wasn't listening to someone anyway—when she was dancing or doing something that didn't involve talking, listening or otherwise being much more than a mere photograph.

It was questionable as to what Ginny Weasley actually did. School chums always said she was such a bright child in school. She'd been a good Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, they said. A prefect her fifth and sixth years, and even a Head Girl. Quiet, a serial dater, funny. Of course, the most anyone could define the school-aged Ginny Weasley with, should all of this other information dip right out of their heads, was the mere fact that she was the youngest Weasley, and a girl.

It turns out that Ginny Weasley happened to be two things, besides a good- time girl. As a career, if you could call it that, Ginny Weasley was all about public relations. Her specialty was throwing big parties for clients, planning every stylish degree, from the food to the decorations to the people, to the publicity it got. Any journalists or photographers whether freelance or contract that pissed her off were blacklisted for life. No exclusives for them, ever. It hadn't originally started out that way, but in the beginning, Ginny had a lot of spite, coming from a family welcomed in many circles, all but one. She had a long memory and too much vengeance to let things go. So as she gained more power, more individual bitches and assholes went down the drain because they couldn't have been bothered to cut the once ingénue a break.

The second and least important of the two things Ginny Weasley happened to be was the mistress of an infamous womanizer who continued to womanize. Yvon Bernhardt, a Frenchman with a taste for challenges and projects, had a lot of money to waste. And that he did. He paid for all of Ginny's expenses, from her shopping to her business, and never got any share of the profits. She was his official girlfriend while he often traipsed across Europe with several more. It was pretty hush-hush beyond the upper crust, and Ginny didn't seem to mind.

Now as to the name of Ginny. It was an issue Ginny herself rarely addressed. These days 'Gin' was being used by the papers as some sort of affectionate term, the way you would address an old school chum you had great laughs with and who now was wackier than ever and doing unbelievable deeds. "Oh, that's just so Gin."

So that was seemingly inappropriate within her truest of friends and family, but neither did her birth name Ginevra hold any merit, as the name disgusted her because of the infliction and connotation with which it was used. Not only did acquaintances and lovers use it as if she was just an accessory, an ornament, but as an accessory and an ornament you talked down to. With Ginevra out of mind, Ginny seemed to be the most suitable nickname for her.

The leader of a revolution unknowingly soothing the wounds of a terrible war and every bit of heartbreak that went along with it was suddenly about to meet her own challenge, not just those she'd accidentally had to face.

* * *

"Weasley." Was all his best friend and business partner said to him, before thrusting a copy of Wizards' Business Weekly onto the sleek glass table.

Draco Malfoy squinted, and put on his sunglasses before reaching for his cigarette. Nasty habit. He should give it up. "That's what you fucking dragged me out of bed for?"

"Shut the fuck up." Blaise Zabini snapped, sitting directly across from his best friend in an equally comfortable lounge chair. The rare sunshine of the London morning was quite startling, Blaise would agree, but Draco Malfoy always woke up early, ever since he was small. "Fucking Ginny Weasley is sharing that cover with us, Malfoy, and what did she ever do to deserve it? Throw a couple of fucking parties."

Blaise grinned. "They must be great parties."

Draco shrugged and didn't reach for the magazine. Blaise and Draco had decided to go into business together in their seventh year of Hogwarts. Scared straight away from Azkaban, they had faced more than just losing the millions of galleons their families had, but losing their lives. They were still cocky little shitters, but now they were poor cocky little shitters. All they had left were names they could not use, and a chance to reform.

So they did. It was a painful process, and they had plenty of habits that died hard. They did their best to drop grudges formed by generations of the families they were no longer part of. It was when they were both desperate for a bite to eat that they went and sold their secrets to Dumbledore.

The price? Credibility. Dumbledore cleared their names as parts of legendarily dark clans, which gave them business opportunities, and, in return, revenge on the families that had so easily dismissed them. Having renounced the Dark Lord and confirming many of the theories his opposition had come to concluding, the pair was also offered protection.

It had been six years since they had gone through the turmoil of giving everything up and trying to discover what was really them and what was what they had been raised to be, but it turned out that Blaise was merely a charismatic party boy with great people skills, and Draco was something of a hard ass with brilliant business sense.

They now headed a Quidditch empire named the Diamond Blaze. The balcony of the hotel overlooked nearly the whole of London, and Blaise, irritated with Draco's indifference, picked up the magazine as Draco put out his cigarette in disgust with himself.

"_The New Breed of Purebloods_ by Todd Teagan. You do remember little Toddy? That eager little friend of Creevey?" Blaise smirked. "He interviewed me last week, as you're something of, how can we say it, a downer? It was such a bitch to get you even close to the studio for photographs."

"Get on with it, you dirty little pussy." Draco snarled.

"Touchy, are we?" Blaise was so light-hearted; he was nearly a giddy little Gryffindor girl. "'Undeniably, the word pure has something of a negative connotation in this day and age, primarily because of the philosophies which have destroyed many a family and a good witch or wizard. Nowadays, the pure are trying their hardest to prove they are not as they used to be, and those with the most success at the moment are the clan of Weasleys, as they have always been known for being good and hardworking. Individually, they are all succeeding. But the youngest Weasley, Ginevra, in addition to the disowned sons of two of the largest Death Eater families, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy, have been setting the trail ablaze, not only as leaders of their generation, but as representatives of the new breed of purebloods.'"

"Always knew Toddy was a little puff." Draco muttered.

"Don't sound so homophobic, love, it's so bad for your image." Blaise cooed in a high-pitched voice, letting out afterwards his usual boyish laugh, all teeth showing, and even Draco broke into something of a smile. Blaise continued. "'What more is there to say about Ginevra Weasley that doesn't sound like some petty little gossip column? It is undeniable that the bitingly sarcastic enigma has changed a bit since Hogwarts, where she was on the usual Weasley track—prefect, Quidditch, Head Girl, the whole nine yards—but something she had inherited from her brothers—a stylish sense of fun, was where her business sense when skyrocketing. Now possibly a leader of this generation—'"

"This her?" Draco asked, motioning to the curvy redhead on the magazine cover.

Blaise dog-eared his page and closed the magazine, rolling his eyes. "One would draw that conclusion, now wouldn't they? Christ, Drake, you're so stupid for someone who's so smart."

Draco didn't reply, only taking the magazine from Blaise a little forcefully. A Creevey, featuring Blaise in the bottom corner of the collage triangle, his arm around some anonymous blond who had probably been famous fifteen minutes ago, had obviously overdone the cover photo. Draco's body wasn't in the shot, just a headshot of him looking pensive. Classic. Weasley, in high heels and barely much else, was at the top of the triangle, looking over her shoulder at the reader. The picture threw him and he tossed the magazine at Blaise.

"Christ, you're grumpy. I'm getting you coffee next time we do this." Blaise muttered, thumbing through the magazine, searching for his page.

"Why are we doing this?" Draco asked, his upper lip curling up in disgust with Blaise's giddiness.

"Well, we've been too busy to go to some of these parties before, and we're on the list for the next one, so I figure we might as well check this chick out so she can handle PR for our company...you know?" Blaise grinned secretively.

"What do you have in mind?" Draco asked wearily, glaring at his business partner. "Well...you'd think that the little heiress to the Firebolt empire would be a little smarter...I've only to fuck her a couple more times and the company is ours."

Draco leapt up, nearly overturning the table. "You're shitting me."

"I shit you not, dear friend." Blaise answered peacefully, his boyish grin spreading across his face. "Contracts are all nearly signed. Perfect reason to throw a party, don't you think?"

"I knew you were good in bed—"

"Oh, love, don't phrase it like that, I'm not a puff."

"But that good?"

"She's eighteen. She doesn't know any better." Blaise retorted in his defense.

"Did we?" Draco muttered, but he too was beginning to smile. "Firebolt. Fuck. Seriously?" Blaise nodded. Draco turned away. "It's a dirty way to get the company."

"But it'd be ours." Blaise replied with a darker tone in his voice. Blaise stood up. "Draco, this would finally get us back everything we gave up for our integrity. BILLIONS. More than we ever had before. Sure, we're living one hell of a life now, but think about it. You'll finally have the business challenges you always wanted...there are so many negotiations that come with an established company—working the old deals so that they fit YOUR needs, not just theirs—making new deals...and me? I'll have more to do, charm-wise, get it? We deserve a fuckin' week of parties for this mess." "

What's Weasley's next event for?" Draco asked after a moment, and Blaise smiled.

"Get this—our little baby Firebolt's eighteenth birthday." Blaise looked pained for a second, but just as Draco wanted to say something, his boyish grin returned. "Come on, let's dig up that invitation."


	2. Your Heart Is Out

DISCLAIMER: All but the plot belong to J.K. Rowling and company, except for _Wonderwall,_ a song that belongs to Oasis.

_Backbeat the word was on the street  
That the fire in your heart is out  
I'm sure you've heard it all before  
But you never really had a doubt  
I don't believe that anybody feels  
The way I do about you now_

"Come on in. My next appointment is always late and not for another hour anyhow." Ginny greeted brightly, letting Hermione in. It was a large and spacious townhouse, in sleek metallic colors and lines and Ginny's high heels clicked on the black marble floor.

"This is your office?" Hermione asked as Ginny led her to the back, where, to Hermione's surprise, a trendier version of the Burrow's warm and inviting kitchen awaited them.

"Well, it's directly upstairs, behind the double glass doors. I shut all the other doors and lock them when I have clients over. I work much better when I can just go and fetch myself a cup of tea on a whim." Ginny bustled about the kitchen in a tight black satin skirt and a lacy bright pink camisole.

"Business attire?" Hermione continued reluctantly. Ginny laughed, a warm laugh she had not used in London for some time.

"Oh, no. Heavens no. I have a blouse to go over this." She motioned to the camisole. "But I do look the part of a ruthless public relations woman, eh?"

Hermione laughed and Ginny cocked her head to one side. "Funny, you're the only one who has gotten that joke in the years I've used it." Ginny smiled. "Tea?"

Hermione nodded and Ginny opened a cabinet to begin to put the kettle on.

"Dyed your hair, huh?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence passed.

"Uh-huh. I found a shade of red a slight bit more flattering to my skin tone. Couldn't let my Weasley roots completely let go, could I? I saw my future. Flaming red just didn't have to be my only option." Ginny laughed again, and her cheeks colored, true to Weasley fashion. "How's life with the Ministry?"

"Oh, good. Not as profitable as the party business, I'm sure." Hermione answered, growing more comfortable with the setting by the second.

A back stairwell that ended in the kitchen was suddenly lit by the presence of a chiseled, shirtless man. He murmured something in Italian and Ginny answered him. He put on the shirt he had in his hands, told her in English he'd fetch his coat and that he'd be seeing her around.

"Who was that?" Hermione hated asking so many questions she felt she should know the answers to.

"Giuseppe, I think." Ginny shrugged and smiled, trying to play it off to her old friend. She turned and put the kettle down on the table. "So, why'd you venture off from the wonderful world of the Ministry?"

Hermione giggled. "Well, the article in _Wizards' Business Weekly_ sparked my attention and I realized I didn't even know where you lived. Sent an owl, and here we are." Hermione looked around, noticed the Wedgwood teacup, and was a bit startled. "How do you afford all of this?"

"Oh, Yvon." Ginny laughed affectionately. "He likes it that I amuse myself with something."

Hermione nodded. "He doesn't mind about—"

She motioned to where Giuseppe had just exited.

Ginny shook her head. "He's not a hypocrite."

Hermione swallowed. It was good tea. "So this has happened before?" Nod. "Do you think you'll get married?"

Ginny nearly spit out her tea. "Married? Yvon? He's been there, done that. Several times…I think he's still married, actually."

Hermione nodded, still not comprehending. "How long have you two been—"?

"Together?" Ginny finished, and Hermione nodded again. Her neck was starting to hurt. "Oh, I don't know…five years?"

"Have you ever wanted to get married?" Her next question made Ginny laugh.

"No."

Before Hermione could ask another question, there was a knock at the front door. Ginny reached for her wand and summoned her blouse, buttoning it and tucking it in hurriedly. "Stick around or let yourself out if you want."

* * *

Leticia Castillo was a young, pretty and leggy brunette with more curves than brains. Now, she sat giggling in Ginny's office as Ginny burst open the curtains, letting the sun in.

"He's just—well, let's just say there's more celebrating to do." Leticia giggled. "I just wanted to discuss one more thing with you before I just let it go, you know?"

"Well, I wanted to show you the final guest list, as today was the last day to RSVP." Ginny explained as she fetched the clipboard with the five sheets of parchment delicately embossed with high profile and trendy names. Leticia waved her away.

"All of that's technical. You can handle it." Leticia giggled again, and pulled, from her frosted clear shopping bag a pink box with a black satin bow. "I bought you a little something I think would best go with the lingerie theme. But of course you'll be separated from the wait staff."

"But of course." Ginny said with a smirk.

"It's just a little gift. I've got to show off the best woman there." Leticia looked very eager. "Well, open it, Ginny-girl!"

Ginny delicately undid the bow and lifted the lid off of the box. Inside, nestled in what must have been a hundred Sickles worth of silk was a thin piece of lingerie that could barely be classified as even that. A nude silk camisole with wine colored ivy lacing across the bust and leading up to the thin wine ribbon straps. Ginny gingerly removed it from the box, only to reveal a wine chiffon ruffled miniskirt. She raised her eyebrows. "Leticia, this isn't necessary."

"Oh, I know, but I wanted to splurge." Leticia's eyes rang with something antiquated and yet newborn. Ginny feared that it was something her own eyes often shone with. "Well, that'll be it then. See you tonight."

And with that, Leticia flounced out of Ginny's office.

Moments later, Hermione made her way up to Ginny's office and raised her eyebrows. "Huh. Feels a little sad, doesn't it?"

"Huh?" Ginny asked, crossing to her closet.

"That someone that rich, that pretty, that young—is so stupid." Hermione said sadly.

"The rich are getting lazier and lazier. They micromanage their empires to the nth degree, but when it comes to who is going to inherit that empire, they don't know what to do. Their children will never understand the sweat and tears that went into what's rubbing their asses smooth. When I read about Zabini and Malfoy's struggle, I was incredibly happy. They finally knew what it was to work for something, and they're not pissing it away." Ginny pulled up a pair of high heels in burgundy with lace straps. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Well, Ron's out of town on business, so I thought Harry and I could have dinner." Hermione answered and Ginny pursed her lips. "He's worked too hard, you know?"

"Well, I have an invitation for two if you want it." Ginny said finally on an exhale. "It'll be wild, I'm sure."

Hermione smiled. "Okay." Hermione took the lacy invitation that Ginny had put on the table. ROBELESS AND RACY: LET'S GET LACY.

"I'll see you tonight, then, maybe?"

Ginny shrugged. "I get busy during these things. You'd be surprised."

* * *

Draco walked in and checked his robe and cloak at a beribboned red counter and the curvaceous blond behind the counter dressed in black lace and red ribbons, which seemed to be the theme, winked and handed him a red ticket.

He nodded and pulled aside the ruffled black lace curtain to reveal an open two-story space where go-go dancers in the black lace and red ribbon lingerie uniform danced on platforms and waitresses, even less practically dressed, walked around with hors d'oeuvres on black marble trays, and bartenders serving swirling mixtures to scantily clad guests.

Draco noticed Blaise sitting at the center of a large crowd with a young, doe-eyed brunette, most likely the guest of honor herself. He rolled his eyes and picked up a champagne flute off of a tray as he passed the balcony's railing and headed down the stairs.

The tables downstairs seemed to offer the older and more mature selection of his set, and even featured some old schoolmates. Draco's eye rolled right over some old dorm mates and he kept walking, wondering what he was doing there.

The answer came as he gently collided with Ginny Weasley, splashing champagne down her top.

"Christ, Malfoy, you thank you'd be used to this sort of thing." She said huskily, brushing past him to discreetly shake the liquid out of her top before it absorbed and became sticky.

"Sorry, Weasley." He muttered, shielding his eyes and whipping a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Need any help?"

"NO!" She snapped, but she looked up to see his back turned and his hand offering a handkerchief. "Some lady's finally made a gentleman out of you, eh?" She took it gently and patted her cleavage, which now glistened with the sparkle of the champagne. "Oh, I suppose it will have to do."

Ginny tapped his shoulder and he turned. "What are you doing here?"

"Blaise dragged me out." Draco muttered and Ginny raised one eyebrow.

He hadn't yet taken his handkerchief back, primarily because she hadn't offered it to him. He noticed it now, suddenly uncomfortable being so close to her and Draco reached for it, crumpled up and damp and slyly, it nearly dropped from Ginny's hand and his eyes followed it as the damp satin flowed upwards, over her barely clothed midriff, and over her ample bust, spending a little too much time there, until she finally raised it and pushed some space between them, dangling it out. Draco tore his eyes away from her chest and took a look at her eyes, slightly confused.

"Here." She said and Draco, not taking his eyes off of hers, reached for it and actually got it this time.

The music stopped playing for just a second, and in that second, Ginny made Draco an offer that the typically cold businessman couldn't refuse. This deal was too intriguing, and he had little to lose.

"Wanna catch up?"

* * *

The music began again and Draco nodded. Ginny whisked the champagne flute out of his free hand and he awkwardly reached for her hand when it was at his hand's level, but she wrangled it loose. They made their way up the packed stairs and the upstairs had gotten darker, to create more ambience. Less people milled about and they stopped only briefly when Harry Potter and Hermione Granger brushed past.

Draco turned away instantly, not knowing exactly _what_ he was doing with Ginny, but he sure as hell knew he didn't want to be caught doing it by Potter.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed eagerly. "This is _some_ party."

"Hermione!" Ginny replied brightly, if not a tad nervously. Darkly, she added, "Harry. Well! There'll be dinner later, and probably more, I can't remember. They all blend together eventually."

* * *

Draco raised his eyebrows quickly and Ginny hurriedly pushed him up the rest of the way. A quilted red silk door was in their path and Ginny pushed it open and pulled her top over her head.

Draco's eyes widened.

"Lock the door." She commanded, and Draco locked it as an excuse to tear his eyes away.

What the fuck was going on? "I didn't know that this was what you meant by, um…catching up."

"Don't be naïve, Malfoy. You're a businessman, and so am I." Draco wanted to cheekily say she was no man, but she had balls. "Turn around."

Draco followed her command for lack of better thing to do. Her face was blank, and something about it was just so stirring he was stunned.

So he got witty. Nervously, but he did get there. "I'm not an expert on these things—"

"Liar." She interrupted flatly.

"But aren't you supposed to be wearing a bra?"

She chuckled, and Draco figured it out, why her face had been so intriguing. It had had no emotion. "You know, most men don't see me like this when they've gotten this far."

"What, smiling?" He growled, and Ginny laughed.

"You're a funny one."

"Says the woman who tempted a family rival up for a chat only to expose her breasts." Draco muttered, turning away.

"I think whoever taught you to be a gentleman took it a step too far." Ginny whispered, her face becoming cold again and she moved towards him, pressing her body against his at the first chance, pushing him against the door. "They are nice breasts, though, aren't they?"

Draco shrugged and Ginny's face contorted for a minute and then she laughed. "I see where this is going. You want to rile me up. Creative. Far more creative than the other dumb fucks I've dragged in here."

"Is that what this is about, then? You expected a dumb fuck?" Draco began to color a bit. He didn't know if he was offended. "I'm not my father, Ginny."

"Oh, I know that." Ginny's voice was lower now. "Do you think I would've dragged your father's scum up here? You're not the Malfoy of yesteryear, but I knew you in Hogwarts and I know you now. You're just a man, and a man enjoys the quick intrigue. You do a couple of the right moves, make a couple of the right sounds and right there, you've got a man's mess inside of you. They don't look at your face, Malfoy, so that makes you _strange_."

She tore away from him with a lingering air of disgust and frustration floating about her. Her chest jiggled just slightly and Draco's eyes couldn't help but follow their perfect shape and their gorgeous coloring. She crossed her legs in irritation and her eyes met where his were trailing and she smirked.

"Ah, the man in you has returned, Malfoy, so are we going to fuck or not?" Ginny snapped, irritated that he _was_ getting a rise out of her. She now understood he wasn't trying, which made it worse. She slyly uncrossed her legs, frowning, and his eyes grew large.

"No panties." He commented after a moment, very softly.

"Do I seem like the kind of woman who would _bother_ with panties?" Ginny growled, the last straw finally hitting the camel's back. Ginny flew across the room, pressing her body against his earnestly and she grabbed his hand. It burned with whatever reason there was for his integrity, and Ginny roughly shoved it up her skirt, pushing it as high up her thigh as she thought would be necessary to encourage him.

Draco didn't move his hand, and it occurred to Ginny that it was odd that her thighs were heating up. Why was he teasing? God, it was her job to tease. His other hand ran down her smooth back, finally resting _chivalrously _on the small. Ginny was enraged! What game was he playing?

She pulled away, even though her thigh and the small of her back stung with anticipation. Angrily, Ginny marched across the room, her cheeks pink with Weasley rage. She pulled on her top, creating flyways in her smooth hair. By now it all began to register with Draco, and he was beginning to get amused.

"Upset, Weasley? That I won't play your game?" Draco teased as she adjusted her shoes. He pulled up a chair.

"You're a chauvinistic asshole, Malfoy. You don't want to give up the control you think you men are supposed to have during sex." Ginny muttered, knowing it was bullshit.

"I'm sorry that you get off on having control over your lovers, but you made the wrong choice this time." Draco defended casually. He had forgotten how fun it was to see someone squirm under pressure, especially someone like Ginny Weasley, who obviously wasn't used to losing.

"I bet you're wondering why I like it like this. Well, Malfoy, I'll never tell you everything, but let's face it, Yhe metrosexual man is a joke, Malfoy. They don't even look to see if I really am enjoying it. What can I say? It _amuses_ me that I'm just another cold fuck to these assholes." Ginny spat, and she rushed towards the door to unlock it.

"So it scares you to get hot, doesn't it?" Draco whispered, and Ginny stopped dead in her tracks, spinning on her stilettos.

She opened her mouth to yell at him, and Blaise's voice interrupted both of their trains of thought.

"Draco Malfoy? Draco Malfoy, show your face, you dumb fuck!"

Draco stood and offered her his arm and forcefully, she took it, nearly yanking it out of its socket.

**_

* * *

_**

The pair emerged and made their way down the now emptied wide stairwell. Blaise's voice was louder, presumably by magic, and he grinned from the bar. Leticia sat in his lap.

"Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, I'll be needing you too! Leticia here has just signed a multi-million dollar contract and has signed over the Firebolt Company and all of its contracts to the Diamond Blaze Corporation, and I dunno, that merger just might make me want to throw a party!"

The lights flickered with the standing ovation-style applause, and Draco's arm loosened from hers and slid around Ginny's waist in the dark, the dim flashes of light allowing for barely a glimpse of anyone, and it moved closer to the center, drooping low, just past her hip. He pressed his lips to her ear.

"Good times, good times…"


End file.
